


Let’s Make Our Own Traditions

by debwalsh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Mead, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Eggnog, First Kiss, Gift Exchange, Hot Cocoa, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Ugly Christmas Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: A Stark Christmas party.Thor’s Asgardian mead stash.Steve Rogers and spiked eggnog.Bucky.What could go wrong?





	Let’s Make Our Own Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).



> This story is for the amazing Huntress79, part of the DC/Marvel Holiday Bingo Exchange! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ve never done gift exchanges before this year, and I have to say I will definitely do it again.
> 
> The prompts were:
> 
> #1 - Ugly Sweater  
> #2 - Gingerbread Man  
> #3 - Mighty Eggnog  
> #4 - Create A New Holiday Tradition  
> #5 - Hot Cocoa

Bucky plucked at the front of the garish, tufted, be-belled, and fucking blinking sweater and frowned.  “Why do I have to wear this monstrosity again?” he called to Steve, who was getting dressed in his own room.  
  
Steve ambled into Bucky’s room, tugging at his sleeves to bring them down over his wrists - Steve’s ridiculous size meant that often off the rack clothes didn’t quite fit him right, and this ... oh God, it was even worse than Bucky’s.  Was that a reindeer taking a dump on his chest? With flashing red and green lights?  
  
Bucky felt a headache coming on.  Before he could say anything, though, Steve chuckled.  “Apparently it’s a tradition. It’s a stupid tradition, but one that Tony really, really likes.  I read up about it on the internet - it’s all after our time, started in the ‘50s, got really bad in the ‘80s, and now it’s the hipster thing to do.  At least the sweater he picked out for you is just ugly. Mine’s downright rude!”  
  
“You really gonna wear that thing?” Bucky asked with a grimace and a cringe.  
  
Steve shrugged.  “It’s for charity.  We show up, we get our picture taken with a few donors, we schmooze for an hour, maybe two, Children’s Hospital gets a nice paycheck, and then we go back up to the lounge floor for the real party.”  
  
“Cookies?” Bucky asked hopefully.  
  
“Yep.  Including gingerbread men.  I hear from Pepper she vetoed Tony’s plan to have them all look like Iron Man.  Instead he had the bakery do them of all of us. Plus about a billion other varieties.”  
  
The idea of eating a cookie of Steve made Bucky’s brain short circuit for a moment, but he recovered before Steve noticed.  
  
“Eggnog?”  
  
“Spiked, I’m sure.  Not that that helps us.  But I remember from last year that it was really good - Tony has it made from an old recipe that’s been tweaked over the years.  It’s really tasty. And hey, Thor might join us since he’s on Earth, so he might swing by and bring his mead - that packs a wallop.”  
  
Bucky had to laugh at the bright, hopeful smile on Steve’s face.  “What about hot chocolate?”  
  
“Last year, Tony had a chocolatier come in and make all kinds of specialty hot cocoas.  My favorite was in a candy cane mug with a chocolate spoon - everything was edible!”  
  
“Has Stark figured out how deadly your sweet tooth is yet?”  
  
“Don’t think so.  And it’s not deadly anymore, Buck - got rid of the diabetes with the serum.  Now I can have all the sugar I want with none of the side effects. And this time of year, I’m living the dream, pal!”  
  
“Am I gonna have to sit on you when you get your sugar rush, you overgrown toddler?  Or carry you home when you fall into a sugar coma?”  
  
“Okay, okay, I promise I’ll go easy on the sugar.  Now, you feeling up to this? Remember, pictures, handshakes, make nice for the charity, then we get to relax with the gang and stuff ourselves on Christmas cheer.  You with me, Buck?”  
  
Bucky was surprised to realize that he actually was feeling up to it.  Steve had a way of smoothing the edges and helping Bucky settle into his own skin.  “Yeah, punk. Ain’t hit the end of the line yet, huh? Let’s go get our Yule on.”  
  
&&&  
  
The meet and greet wasn’t as bad at Bucky feared, especially when the kids arrived.  Stark had provided a series of heated sleighs powered by little arc reactors to bring kids able to make the trip from the hospital.  Steve, bless him, immediately asked about kids who couldn’t travel, and it surprised absolutely no one that he volunteered to go visiting the next day.  A hopeful glance at Bucky was all it took for him to agree to do the rounds with him. Punk had a way of getting under Bucky’s skin, often in the best possible ways.  
  
Anyway, Bucky would never figure how it always seemed to happen, but the kids were not afraid of his cybernetic arm, not even a little bit.  No, instead they were all fascinated by it, and every last one of them wanted to play with it in some fashion. He spent the evening with varying combinations of children hanging off his arm, climbing up his arm, or cooing over his arm in some way.  
  
His favorites were the kids who looked at the arm and saw hope.  Little ones with missing limbs, nerve damage, or some other functional or cosmetic challenge.  One little girl, Eva, had had bone cancer, leaving her left arm terminated just below the elbow.  She’d been charmed and excited by Bucky’s metal arm, asking all kinds of questions about how he lost his arm, how the prosthetic felt when he touched something, and what did he have to do to get it.  She was so invested in his arm, he felt his heart breaking moment by moment. He looked up at one point to see Tony Stark standing there, drink in hand, transfixed by the little girl’s enthusiasm.  
  
If Bucky’d ever had any doubt abut the depth of the man’s heart, the next thing the billionaire said allayed it.  
  
“I’ll get in touch with the Princess.”  
  
Bucky had to smile at that. Because then Eva started to bombard him with questions about princesses.  
  
There were worse ways to spend an evening than being interrogated by a precocious eight year old while enjoying gingerbread Avengers and seventeen different varieties of hot cocoa.  
  
&&&  
  
Bucky was actually sorry to see the meet and greet end.  He’d enjoyed himself so much with the kids, the time had passed quickly, and he hadn’t had time to feel anxious or stressed.  
  
The departure of the children signaled the end of Steve and Bucky’s obligations to the donors, and Steve wasted no time finding Bucky so they could go up to the private party together.  
  
“Thor’s due in any minute now,” Steve told him as the elevator doors closed.  He grinned widely, and his eyes were sparkling. Bucky had to wonder if Steve had had too much sugar, or he was just that excited about Thor.  
  
“He bringing the good stuff?”  
  
“Hope so.  Damn, Buck, I know I never drank much when we were kids, but I did enjoy it once in a while.  I miss getting tipsy, y’know? I miss loosening up.”  
  
“Don’t need to drink to loosen up, pal.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know.  I just liked how it felt, y’know?  Like something shook out and settled in straight.  So, yeah. I’m looking forward to seeing Thor.”  
  
“Okay.  Hope you’re not a lightweight like you used to be.”  
  
“You haven’t had this stuff, Buck.  It’s smooth going down. But damn, it’s like a Panzer when it hits you.”  
  
“Didn’t you punch one of those back in the day?”  
  
“I can neither confirm or deny.”  
  
“Pretty sure it ain’t still classified, punk.  So, let’s get ourselves some nog, huh?” Bucky grinned as the doors opened onto the garishly festive lounge floor of Stark Tower. “Well, hell, what gang of elves threw up in here?”  
  
&&&  
  
The private party proved to be every bit as smooth and comfortable as the donor party had been, but this time Bucky couldn’t blame it on the kids who made him feel like he was somebody worth knowing.  No, this time it was Steve, pink-cheeked, glassy-eyed, sweet smiling Steve as he sipped his way through Thor’s superhooch mixed with Stark’s historically inaccurate nog. Steve had already slid halfway down the couch next to Bucky, his serum-enhanced body generating enough warmth to compete with the raging fire Stark tended in the fireplace - a fire that Stark started with a blast from his Iron Man gauntlet, and topped up with little bursts from the damned thing.  He’d kitted out the hand with twinkly lights and had JARVIS play a holiday playlist that was actually pretty nice.  
  
Surrounded by people he knew and generally liked, basted and lit by his own share of the Asgardian mead mixed into his fancy hot cocoa, with a cheery fire, good music, and delicious food, Bucky was starting to slide down the couch himself.  It was only the realization that he was probably going to have to haul Steve’s overgrown ass back to their floor that kept him from letting go completely.  
  
“‘S’nice,” Steve murmured as he wiggled around a bit to more comfortably plaster himself to Bucky’s side.  “Ma would’a loved this.”  
  
Bucky smiled, turning his head to glance down at where Steve’s golden head lolled against his shoulder.  Sarah Rogers would’ve loved any scenario in which her son were happy, bonus points for healthy. Happy, healthy, and among people who loved him?  Sarah would’ve been over the moon. She’d always only ever wanted the best for her only son. And for some reason Bucky had never been able to fathom, somehow she’d included Bucky in that classification.  The memory of her bright blue eyes, corners crinkled with mirth and affection, made Bucky’s chest ache. His own Ma had always told him that he and Steve must’ve been friends in past lives, the way they fit together.  
  
As Steve wriggled a little to snuggle himself more against Bucky’s side (how was that even possible?), his big arms wrapping around Bucky’s waist, Bucky had to smile indulgently.  He might be a 6’2” wall of muscle, but at his core, Steve Rogers would always be the little guy with the heart as big as the world, and tipsy Steve forgot he wasn’t so tiny anymore.  Sighing wistfully, Bucky wrapped his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders, tugging him just a little closer. Yeah, it was possible, sue him.  
  
They still fit together.  
  
The realization of just how important that fact was made Bucky’s eyes burn with unshed tears just a little.  So much had changed. So much had been lost. But this, this little thing, was still theirs.  
  
He felt his heart warm.  His cheeks, too. He lifted his eyes to see Natasha eying him curiously over her spiked - with human-consumable alcohol - wassail.  She lifted one delicately formed eyebrow at him, and nodded at the limpet wrapped around his mid-section.  
  
He just smiled.  Let her think whatever she wanted to think.  It didn’t bother him, and he knew it wouldn’t bother Steve.  Might even save him from Natasha’s matchmaking.  
  
But the little puddle of drool that was forming on his right tit through the god-awful Christmas sweater told him that action was needed.  At least he wasn’t drooling on his own ugly sweater - with the flashing lights, he might electrocute himself with too much drool. “C’mon, pal.  Time for you to hit the hay,”  
  
“Mmm-nmm,” Steve protested sleepily, burrowing further into Bucky’s right side.  Okay, now he was just defying physics.  
  
“Yeah-huh,” Bucky chuckled, trying to disentangle himself from drowsy-stupid Steve.  “C’mon, let’s see if you can con Thor out of some more of his hooch, and we’ll knock some more back tomorrow. But tonight, let’s get you into bed before you end up with Barton drawing dick pics on your face and Romanoff postin’ ‘em on Instagram.”  
  
“I would never!” Nat protested with a prim hand to her chest, comically wide eyes, and her phone held up like a camera suspiciously at the ready.  
  
“I would!” snorted Barton, and Bucky knew that was true.  He’d done it to Banner at Thanksgiving, earning him a near green out in the process.  The lure of defacing America’s Captain was just too much for his twitchy fingers to ignore.  
  
Yep, Bucky was gonna have to protect the honor of America’s Sentinel of Liberty, and haul his dumb ass outta there before Barton gave into his baser instincts.  
  
“C’mon, punk, let’s get you situated before you drown in your own spit.  Barton, put that phone down!” Bucky commanded without even looking, because he knew what an asshole Barton could be sober, but put a coupl’a drinks in the guy, and he was beyond the pale.  With a mighty heave, Bucky got Steve on his feet, swaying only slightly with a shit-eating smile.  
  
“You’re strong,” Steve observed nonsensically.  
  
“Strong enough to take you on, big guy.  Now let’s go. One foot in front of the other.”  
  
Steve started to walk like he was traversing a tight rope, arms stretched out to each side to center him as he laboriously followed Bucky’s orders - placing one foot precisely - sort of - in front of the other.  His brow furrowed and his tongue got stuck between his teeth as he focused furiously on the task at hand.  
  
“Sure you can handle him, Barnes?” Natasha asked with a wry chuckle and her phone held up to record the festivities.  
  
“Best put that thing away, Romanoff. I’ll be coming for you if I see even a frame of this online.  And the day I can’t handle Steve Rogers is the day the angels sing hallelujah. JARVIS, call the elevator, please?” Bucky asked as he watched Steve carefully pick his way across the room.  At this rate, he should reach the elevator in about five minutes, plenty of time for Bucky to say their good nights.  
  
“Oh, Grandpa America hit his limit?” Tony asked jovially.  
  
“Seventy years on the wagon‘ll mess with your tolerance, Tony,” Bucky snarked back.  “Oh, hey, Thor! You wouldn’t happen to have any of that mead stuff to spare, would ya?”  
  
Thor grinned, dug around by the chair where he sat, and pulled out a carry-bag that clinked promisingly.  
  
“I am happy that Steve has found a brew that gives him joy,” Thor announced with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.  Asgardian prince knew what he was up to.  
  
“Sure does.  Me, too. So, can you spare a bottle?”  
  
Thor levered himself out of the chair, looking suspiciously like a god rising out of the sea, his casual sweater and neatly pressed slacks notwithstanding.  He brought the bag over to Bucky and handed it to him with an odd sense of ritual. “I have more, so please take this and enjoy,” he told Bucky quietly. “I know how much Steve relishes the option to get drunk, to feel a little normal, even for a short time.  ‘Tis a terrible thing when one is denied the simplest of pleasures, no? He is most fortunate to have found you again, Bucky.” Then Thor frowned, his attention shifting over Bucky’s shoulder. “But I fear that he has lost his sense of direction, and may yet find himself in the wrong place entirely.”  
  
Bucky wheeled around, hearing the bottles in the bag clink together as he caught sight of Steve veering off toward the stairwell instead of the elevator bank.  “JARVIS, lock down the stairwell door, please!” Bucky called out as he double-timed it over to divert Steve back to the elevator and the safety of their floor.  
  
“Come on, big guy.  That’s right, left foot in front of the right foot, do it again ...” he cajoled, steering Steve back toward the elevator.  He steadfastly ignored the titters and giggles from the assembled Avengers. “Barton, what’d I say about that phone?”  
  
“Aw, c’mon, Barnes!  I don't have to share it online, but this is too good not to record for posterity!”  
  
“I’ll share your posterior for posterity, you idiot.  He’s gonna feel crap enough in the morning - he doesn’t need to be humiliated, too.”  
  
“Aw, Barnes, you do care!” Natasha teased lightly.  
  
Bucky looked up at her and arched his eyebrow.  That’s it, that’s all he did, and she looked chastened.  And Bucky smiled inwardly at how satisfying that felt.  
  
Satisfied was not how he felt, however, when Steve hauled up short and wouldn’t move.  “What the hell, Steve?” Bucky demanded.  
  
Steve stood up straight and pointed up, grinning like the drunken loon he was.  
  
Bucky’s eyes followed the finger, and he found himself looking at the shiny green leaves and glistening white berries of a ball of mistletoe hung directly over their heads.  
  
“No.”  
  
“C’mon, Buck.  It’s the law,” Steve drawled, grinning up at him.  
  
“I’m the ex-Fist of Hydra.  I don’t have to follow laws if I don’t want to.”  
  
Steve pouted theatrically and complained, “I’m Captain America, and I have to follow the laws.  They’ll say bad things about me on Fox News if I don’t.”  
  
“You hate Fox News.”  
  
“Yeah, but ... but ... c’mon, Buck!”  
  
“Oh, good lord!  Enough with the pine and the unresolved sexual tension, you two!  Just kiss him, Barnes, and get your big gay crisis out of the way!” Stark demanded with a chuckle and a wave of his flute.  
  
“Tony, don’t be rude!” Pepper chastised him.  
  
“Why would this be a crisis?” Thor asked mildly.  “Clearly they are made for each other.”  
  
“What the huh?” Bucky demanded, looking back at the others who looked right back at him expectantly.  
  
JARVIS took that moment to announce the arrival of the elevator at the same time Steve started to lean a little too far forward.  Bucky caught him before he fell down, then did a little pirouette into a VTOL leap so he could snag the mistletoe ball. Then he shunted them both, along with the Asgardian mead and the mistletoe, into the elevator.  He smiled smugly at their stunned expressions as the door slid shut.  
  
By the time Bucky turned back to Steve, he’d slid down the back wall of the elevator and was snoring softly.  Bucky couldn’t help but smile fondly. That was his Steve.  
  
&&&  
  
“Ugh.  Why’d you let me drink so much?” Steve complained the next morning as he dragged himself out of bed and into their kitchen, working his mouth and grimacing over the taste.    
  
“Last time I checked, I’m not the boss’a you.  Like you’d pay attention to me anyway,” Bucky groused from where he sat at the counter stirring his hot cocoa.  
  
“Coffee?”  
  
“Uh-uh.  I went back up to the lounge floor and brought back some of the hot cocoa combos.  Figure there’s nearly as much caffeine in chocolate as in coffee, and the caffeine doesn’t really affect us anyway.  Might as well enjoy the season while we can, huh?” Bucky suggested, and reached over to pour some hot cocoa into a mug for Steve.  
  
Steve accepted the mug gratefully, breathed deep of the aromatic steam, and then took a fortifying sip before sighing happily.  “You have the best ideas,” he noted.  
  
“Damn right I do.  How’s the head, sunshine?”  
  
“Could’a been worse, I guess.  Like I said, it’s so smooth going down.  But the afterglow ...” he shook his head, then winced when the pain caught up with him.  
  
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Thor gifted us with a coupl’a bottles.  Thought we could have our own toast without fear of Barton and his Sharpie.”  
  
Steve patted his face suddenly, eyes wide in panic.  “He didn’t, did he?”  
  
“Nah, I extracted you before he had the chance.  But he would’a if I hadn’t. Damn Arrow Boy’s a goddamned menace, especially when Wilson’s not around to keep him in line.”  
  
Steve spied the ball of mistletoe on the counter, its leaves beginning to curl and dry now, the berries looking a little less shiny and new. Steve reached out for it and let his hand hover over it a moment.  “What’s this for?” he finally asked in a small voice.  
  
“You were hellbent on taking advantage of it last night.”  
  
“With who?”  
  
“With me.”  
  
Steve was silent then, and withdrew his hand slowly.  
  
After a moment, Bucky looked up from his cocoa.  “Steve?”  
  
Steve remained silent a few moments longer, then finally said, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Nothing to be sorry about.  The others got their jollies, I threatened them with mayhem if they posted anything about you blunderin’ around and tryin’ to get me to kiss you under the mistletoe,” Bucky chuckled, but when Steve didn’t join in, he tilted his head and regarded his old friend more critically.  “Steve?”  
  
Steve didn’t answer, instead he picked up the ball of vegetation and turned it over his hands.  After a long moment, he lifted his face to look at Bucky, and Bucky shifted backward slightly at the sight.  
  
Steve’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and his face was a mask of misery.  
  
Bucky whistled low under his breath.  “You wanted me to kiss you. It wasn’t you Stark was talking about with the ‘big gay crisis’ -”  
  
Steve started plucking the leaves away from the mistletoe sprigs, pausing every so often to strip off a berry or two.  “Yeah, I kind of went through mine a while ago. Well, bi crisis. It started before I knew you were alive, actually.”  
  
“And Tony knows.”  
  
“Yeah.  Him and Pepper.  And later Sam. Sam helped me through a lot of it.  Tony kind of put the pieces together and quietly pulled me aside to tell me it was okay.  And if I ever wanted to come out publicly, he’d help me through it. Pepper promised to manage the public reaction.”  
  
“Do you?  Want to come out?”  
  
“Well, I didn’t until after I told you.  I didn’t want you to find out that way.”  
  
“And why didn’t you tell me before now?”  
  
“I didn’t want to tell you when you were recovering because I didn’t want to distract from that.  And then, there didn’t seem to be a good time. Or a good reason. I mean, I wasn’t seeing anyone.  I wasn’t interested in seeing anyone -“  
  
“No?”  
  
“No.  Well ... anyway, there didn’t seem to be a burning need, y’know?  It wasn’t like it was gonna change anything about how we are together.  I mean, it shouldn’t‘a.” He looked down at this hands and the shredded vegetation that used to be mistletoe.  “Until I did something stupid, I guess.” Steve lifted his face again to look directly into Bucky’s eyes, a hint of challenge, a dollop of pleading, and a whole butt load of pain, and Bucky realized, not for the first time, that he never wanted to be the source of that pain.  He wanted to smooth it away, eliminate it entirely.  
  
“Did I do something stupid?” Steve asked, his voice small and cracking.  
  
Bucky reached out and tugged the decimated mistletoe from Steve’s hands.  He looked a it for a moment before returning his gaze to Steve’s, a broad smile stretching his face into a new and glorious form.  Hope lit a fire in Steve’s eyes as Bucky raised his hand to hold the remains of the mistletoe over Steve’s head.  
  
“Time to bring the stupid home,” Bucky said through his grin, and leaned forward to press his lips against Steve’s.  
  
He’d talk to Steve about adding visits to the children at the hospital to their holiday to-do list, but for now?  Kissing, with or without the tattered remains of mistletoe ... Now this was a holiday tradition worth keeping.  
  
END 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the organizer of this exchange! 
> 
> I hope you and yours have a wonderful holiday season, whatever holiday you celebrate!


End file.
